


Shoot to Thrill

by Miko_of_Midnight



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Assassin! Oliver, Dark! Oliver, Day 1, Established Barry Allen/Oliver Queen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, M/M, Not explicitly said though, Olivarry Week 2017, Psychological Torture, So really who knows, The author the author knows, Turns out I misread the prompt, possible major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko_of_Midnight/pseuds/Miko_of_Midnight
Summary: Oliver is out for blood on those who have wronged the one he loves. And this is just the beginning of the work that lies ahead for him.Olivarry Week 2017- Day #1- Dark!Oliver





	Shoot to Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Olivarry week! Just a bit of a drabble to start off the week for day 1! (As always, just in under the wire)
> 
> Wasn't really sure what to do for this one, but well, just read and see what you think! Hoping it's not too shit. 
> 
> Also, as always, not betaed. All mistakes are mine!
> 
> Edit: Yep, all mistakes are mine, including misreading the fucking prompt! UGH! I thought it said Dark!Oliver not Dark!Olivarry. Damn it. Soooooo.... yeah. This is Dark!Oliver with an absent Barry. Damn, well hopefully someone enjoyed it anyway. Maybe some day I'll do Dark!Olivarry. Damn I feel dumb... and I didn't notice the mistake until Day 5 *shakes head at self shamefully*

Oliver flexed the hand that was holding a new tool that would be used to the same end as all the others: information. He rolled his neck before entering the shoebox room that was his makeshift holding cell.

The door opening made the blindfolded occupant flinch so hard that he almost knocked the chair he was tied to over. Oliver eyed the sweating, hyperventilating creature that used to be a man, critically. He believed one more round would get the man to tell him what he wanted.

“Who-who’s there?” Oliver didn’t respond, but slammed the door behind him, the sound vibrating inside the room. “Look I- I don’t know why I’m h-here. I-I don’t know anything. I-I just-“ He wasn’t in the mood to hear blubbering, unless it was telling him what he wanted to know. He clanged his pliers against the metal table next to the occupied chair. The man jumped, as much as he could while being tied.

“I-I, no- no please,” and then the man descended into incoherent begging and babbling. He probably had even pissed himself. Oliver let out a frustrated snort of breath. He contemplated his options. If he tried anything more on him right now the man would pass out and wouldn’t probably be helpful for several hours. He couldn’t afford that type of delay. However Oliver thought he needed another push of motivation before he would fold. He couldn’t be sure, though.

Oliver reached over and brought the lamp over, shining on his face. He then removed the blindfold, ignoring the nonstop noise, words and otherwise, spilling from the man’s mouth. He peered into the newly revealed and bruised face. His black eyes clenched shut at the sudden blinding light.

“Are you ready to cooperate,” he growled out, an edge that promised to cut the listener if the wrong answer was provided. The man kept his eyes shut and whimpered like a wounded animal. Oliver brought his tool up, touching the cool metal to the man’s wet cheek. He flinched and let out a yelp preparing for another assault, but Oliver didn’t move the tool or himself, just continued to stare at his colourful masterpiece; the face that he had made his own in their brief acquaintance. The swollen lips took a shaky breath.

“I’ll- tell you anything you want, just don’t-“ the breathy voice broke. “-don’t- hurt me.”

“Well, Jonathan, you say the magic words and I’ll make this,” he stroked the pliers down his cheek to his chin, “disappear,” he whispered in his ear.

The words tumbled from his battered mouth like a waterfall. They said everything in relation to the man he was truly after. And once he started he couldn’t seem to stop and began to confess to every crime he had ever committed. It was amusing for about half a minute. But he had more important people to make shit their pants than this little bit of nothing. He barked at him to shut it and the stream was abruptly dammed.

True to his word, Oliver put the pliers on the table to join his other friends. He retied the blindfold on the man. 

“Wait, what are you-“ the rest of his words were stopped by a soft _twag_ and the arrows that appeared in his limp, and soon to be lifeless, body. Oliver slung his bow back to it’s home as he turned to leave without looking back. All he could think about was his next target. 

Of course _all_ wasn’t entirely accurate, because he always had one other thing, one other person on his mind: Barry. The way his green eyes lit up when he would surprise him with a lunch date in the middle of the day. The way he grinned sheepishly any time his work was noticed and appreciated. His blush when Iris or Joe would tease him about their lack of PDA and Oliver would whisper in his ear. His laugh.

Oliver pulled out his phone and his finger hovered over the voicemail option for a split second before he started the message he had heard a thousand times.

“ _Hey Ollie, sorry I have to cancel our date night_ ,” there was a small sigh, “a _gain, I know, but Chief has all of us working overtime to catch these guys. He thinks we’ll finally be able to take down the whole Murtaugh operation if-_ “ Barry paused and he heard someone shout “ _Queen_!” _“Be right there, Chief”_ Barry shouted with his voice muffed as if his head was turned away from the microphone. _“Sorry, Ol, gotta go, duty calls. Look, I’m so sorry, again, about tonight, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as this case is closed. I’ll see you later tonight! Love you!”_

Oliver slowly opened his eyes as the automated voice asked if he would like to save or delete the message. He ended the voicemail call and looked at the time. He had less than an hour to get the location he had been given. His weeks of work and blood were about to pay off.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of open-ended. This is leave it up to you imaginative people! But- mostly I think it worked as a snapshot of what would happen how one major event could be the turning point for Oliver.
> 
> There's six more days! Everyone go out there and create for Olivarry week!


End file.
